The Binder

Zeb felt the weight of the room press down on him, his thoughts swirling with the frustration of being roped into Zayn's chaos once again. Sitting in the corner, his posture slouched, he looked so defeated that even the most legendary artist would have struggled to capture the magnitude of it. He let out an exaggerated sigh, wishing he could simply vanish into the wall. His luck, it seemed, had deserted him long ago, and now his wallet had joined the ranks of the cursed.

After what felt like an eternity of internal debate—his angelic conscience battling against his devilish sarcasm—Zeb finally relented. "Okay," he said, his voice heavy with reluctant surrender. "Let's just say I agree to meet this girl of yours. What exactly am I supposed to do? How do I even introduce myself? I've been single my entire life, surrounded by crude guys who couldn't hold a conversation to save their lives." He shot a playful, exaggerated look of disgust at the others, his sarcasm dripping from every word, but his eyes were tired.

Marcus and Ruzzel, sensing the jab, both raised their hands in mock surrender. They gave him helpless expressions that silently said, Don't look at me; I'm just as clueless as you.

Zayn, sitting up straighter as if sensing the disarray in the air, facepalmed in exaggerated frustration. He'd completely overlooked the one thing he should've known. These idiots have never dated before. Not a single one.

"Don't worry," Zayn said, doing his best to sound reassuring, though disbelief was laced in his voice. "You don't need to overthink it. Just be yourself. Seriously, just show up, talk to her like you would anyone else. Don't change anything—otherwise, it'll feel forced." He leaned forward, catching Zeb's reluctant gaze, then added with an all-too-sincere tone, "And, as for the budget," he gestured grandly, "I'll cover everything. All you have to do is focus on not screwing it up."

Zeb groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You make it sound so easy," he muttered under his breath.

Ruzzel snickered beside Marcus, leaning in to whisper with dramatic flair, "This is going to be priceless."

Marcus, who rarely let his emotions show, shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Let's see if Zebrylle can handle the pressure of Zayn's impossible standards."

Zeb shook his head in disbelief. "What if she's actually a good person? I mean, I'm going to be there pretending to be you. If she's a nice girl, it's going to feel like a cruel joke. Like I'm tricking her. And if she's not…" Zeb narrowed his eyes, his expression shifting from disbelief to determination, "How do I break it to her that your mom's probably just going to set you up on more blind dates until you finally crack? Or will this just send you down a never-ending rabbit hole of more disasters?"

Zeb's voice grew sharper as his frustration peaked, his words like an ultimatum. "And let me make one thing clear," he said, eyes locking onto Zayn. "This is a one-time favor. I'm pretending to be you once, and never again. Not even if you chase me to the gates of hell, I'm not doing this twice!" His tone was a mix of humor and fierce defiance—his face scrunched in over-the-top dramatics, but there was truth in it.

Zayn let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah, yeah, I get it," he said, the edge of his usual cocky bravado fading for a moment. "One time only. Trust me, I don't plan on making this a recurring favor." He sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "If it doesn't work out, I buy myself time. My mom—she can be a lot to handle, but she's not stupid. She knows how to pull back when she sees the situation's not working."

Zeb shook his head again, his exasperation clear. "You'd better have a backup plan ready by then," he muttered. "Because if you don't, don't even think about dragging me into this mess again."

Zayn nodded solemnly, but the gleam in his eyes hinted he was far from giving up. "I'll handle it. I'm just buying myself time to figure out my next move."

Marcus, observing from the sidelines, finally broke his silence, his tone calm but intrigued. "That's all well and good," he began, leaning forward, "but what if she is a good person? What's your real plan then?"

Zayn stiffened at the question, momentarily caught off guard. He leaned back, his usual playboy swagger momentarily slipping. "I've got my limits," he said quietly, his voice suddenly more serious. "I've never gone after an innocent girl—not once. All the women I've dated, they've known the score. It's always a game, no misunderstandings. We're on the same page from the start."

He paused, looking directly at Marcus and then at Zeb, his expression thoughtful. "But if this girl's different, if she's innocent? That's another story. I don't mess with people's emotions. I don't drag them into a mess that isn't theirs."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected shift. "So, if she is good, what then? You can't exactly back out after causing a mess for all of us."

Zayn's gaze hardened, the weight of the situation finally sinking in. "I'll protect her. I won't let her get caught up in this." He paused, his jaw clenched. "Even if it means coming clean and taking the fallout. I've made a lot of mistakes, but I'm not the kind of guy who hurts innocent people to save face."

A rare silence filled the room. Even the usual sarcasm and banter seemed to pause, replaced by the weight of Zayn's words.

He straightened in his seat, a spark of determination flickering in his eyes. "That's why you guys are here," Zayn said, his tone shifting into something sharper, more resolute. He turned to Marcus and to Ruzzel, who had been silent for most of the exchange, watching the drama unfold like spectator at a theater. "If things go south, you're going to help me fix it."

Marcus and Ruzzel exchanged a wary glance, their expressions a mix of confusion and unease. "Fix it? How?" Marcus asked cautiously.

Zayn's lips curled into a mischievous smile, the kind that made the other brothers instinctively tense. "If the girl is good, we'll step in and take over the situation from Zeb. We'll explain everything—why Zeb was there, what's really going on—and apologize for the misunderstanding. Then, we'll offer her a choice. If she still wants to pursue me, we'll work it out. If not, we'll find another way to make it up to her. Whatever she needs—whether it's support, compensation, or anything else—we'll make it happen."

Ruzzel leaned back, his arms crossed, eyeing Zayn skeptically. "And by 'we,' you mean…?"

"All of us," Zayn said, his grin widening. "The four of us are in this together, right? If things go south, we step up as a team. Besides…" He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. "If she doesn't want 'me', 'who hurts her feelings', there's always the chance she'll pick one of you guys instead."

The room fell silent as Zayn's words sank in, the air thickening with a mixture of disbelief and dread. Marcus groaned, rubbing his forehead in exasperation, while Ruzzel visibly shuddered, muttering something under his breath about Zayn's twisted sense of humor. Meanwhile, Zeb looked like a man on the verge of flight, his mind racing with the thought of backing out, but the chains of his earlier agreement had him trapped. He'd already agreed to be the decoy, but now it felt like he was stepping into a deeper pit—a one-way trip to a personal hell with no return.

Zayn laughed, clearly enjoying their reactions. "Relax, guys. It's just a backup plan. But hey, if we're going to deal with this mess, we might as well have a little fun along the way."

His playful grin did little to ease the tension, but it was clear that Zayn had made up his mind. No matter how complicated things got, he was determined to handle it—with a little help from his brothers, whether they liked it or not.

After what felt like an eternity of bickering, filled with protests and exasperated sighs, Zayn's relentless barrage of shameless reasoning finally wore down his brothers. None of them wanted to admit it, but the sheer audacity of his arguments left them speechless. Even Marcus, the most composed and strict among them, found himself cornered by Zayn's unyielding persistence.

Marcus rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming as Zayn delivered yet another absurdly convincing plea. Every word out of Zayn's mouth seemed to carry a twisted sort of logic that made it harder to outright refuse him. In moments like this, a few phrases came to mind for the brothers: "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree" or "Cut from the same cloth".

Ruzzel, leaning against the back of the couch, muttered under his breath, "More like, a chicken wouldn't hatch an eagle." His tone was resigned, but his words carried a playful jab. They all knew exactly where Zayn had inherited his relentless persuasion skills—straight from his undefeated mother, the reigning queen of forceful logic.

Marcus's patience finally snapped as he clenched his fists, veins bulging on his forehead. His face darkened, and his usual calm composure cracked under the weight of Zayn's unrelenting onslaught. "One more shameless word from you, and I swear I'll punch that charming face of yours into something even your mother wouldn't recognize!"

The room froze for a beat, and Zayn, sensing he'd pushed Marcus to his limit, raised his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk on his face remained. "Alright, alright! No need to get violent!"

Marcus exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine! Fine. I'll do it. But only because you're too damn irritating to argue with!"

"Wait, seriously?!" Ruzzel's puppy-like eyes widened in disbelief. "We're really agreeing to this insanity?" His voice wavered, as if clinging to the hope that someone—anyone—would put a stop to Zayn's scheme.

"Do we have a choice?" Marcus shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "If we don't agree, this lunatic will never shut up. And frankly, I value my sanity too much to keep listening to him."

Ruzzel sighed dramatically, flopping onto the couch like a defeated golden retriever. "Fine… but when this backfires, I'm telling your mom it was all your idea."

Hearing their reluctant agreement, Zayn lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "You guys… you're the best brothers anyone could ask for!"

The sudden shift from pleading to praise was jarring, and Marcus's jaw tightened, his fists clenching again. "If you keep talking, I'm going to make good on that punch," he growled, standing up as if ready to lunge at Zayn.

Zayn immediately took a step back, his hands still raised. "Whoa, whoa! Relax, big guy! I'm just expressing my gratitude!"

Before Marcus could follow through on his threat, Zeb and Ruzzel grabbed his arms, holding him back in a comical yet half-serious attempt to prevent a full-blown brawl. "Let it go, Marcus," Zeb said, his voice tinged with laughter. "He's not worth it. You'll only hurt your hand punching that thick skull of his."

The tension broke as they all burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting them. Even Marcus couldn't hold back a smirk, though his fists remained clenched.

Zayn, still grinning like the shameless devil he was, clasped his hands together dramatically. "This is why I love you guys. Always ready to have my back—no matter how ridiculous the situation!"

"Yeah, yeah," Marcus muttered, sitting back down and shaking his head. "But don't push your luck, Zayn. I'm warning you."

"Yes, yes!" Zayn said hurriedly, eager to capitalize on their reluctant agreement before anyone changed their mind. His face shifted to a more serious expression, though it did little to hide the glint of mischief in his eyes. Pulling a sleek black card from his pocket, he handed it to Zebrylle with a flourish.

"Here's the money for the date, as promised," Zayn declared, his tone almost regal, as if he were bestowing a grand honor. "You can take her anywhere you want—dinner, movies, a fancy rooftop restaurant. Sky's the limit!" He gave a sly smile, clearly enjoying the act of playing the generous benefactor.

Zeb took the card reluctantly, raising an eyebrow. "You're being suspiciously cooperative," he muttered, inspecting the card as if it might explode in his hand.

Zayn ignored the jab and continued, gesturing dramatically as if he were laying out the most foolproof plan in history. "Now, while you're on the date, the rest of us will follow, of course."

"Of course," Marcus said dryly, already regretting agreeing to this.

"But," Zayn added, raising a finger as if to emphasize a crucial point, "we can't be too close. You know, because with our looks—especially my godlike handsomeness—our presence might cause… complications."

"Complications?" Ruzzel asked, folding his arms.

"Yes, complications!" Zayn repeated shamelessly. "Imagine: me, casually walking by, and suddenly we're surrounded by adoring fans. The whole thing could turn into a fan signing event in the blink of an eye."

There was a beat of silence as the other brothers stared at him, unimpressed.

"Unbelievable," Marcus muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Zeb, card still in hand, shook his head. "So, you're saying we should expect a stampede of screaming fans because you couldn't possibly go unnoticed?"

Zayn nodded earnestly, as though this were the most logical conclusion in the world. "Exactly. Which is why we'll have to use undercover costumes. You know, keep things low-key, avoid attracting too much attention from the public."

At that, Ruzzel burst into laughter, leaning back on the couch. "Oh, this is priceless. Zayn in 'undercover mode'? What's next—sunglasses and a fake mustache?"

"I'm serious!" Zayn protested, though his grin betrayed his amusement. "With my looks, I can't take any chances. You should thank me for thinking ahead!"

The other brothers rolled their eyes in unison, the gesture so synchronized it might as well have been rehearsed.

"Zayn, you really are undefeated when it comes to shamelessness," Ruzzel said, still chuckling. "You make me look humble by comparison—and that's saying something."

"Maybe it's all those years of being the golden boy," Zeb quipped, waving the card lazily. "Your ego's gotten so big, it's practically its own entity now."

Zayn shrugged, utterly unbothered. "Hey, I can't help it if the universe decided to bless me with these looks. If anything, I'm doing humanity a favor by existing."

Marcus's jaw tightened, and his fists clenched ever so slightly. "Keep talking like that, and I might decide to humble you myself."

Zayn held up his hands in mock surrender, a wide grin still plastered on his face. "Alright, alright! I'll save my godlike wisdom for later."

The brothers exchanged glances, the absurdity of the situation hanging heavily in the air. As usual, Zayn had managed to spin his ridiculous plan into something they were all reluctantly roped into—whether they liked it or not.